Who broke it? Eleanor Whitakers voice booms across the kitchen. She holds a cracked porcelain teacup from the set her late husband gave her. Did you do this?
Emma freezes, unsure what to answer. She knows it wasnt her. Most likely Lucy, Eleanors fiveyearold greatgranddaughter, was playing on the kitchen floor that morning. But telling the truth would expose the child to her grandmothers wrath.
Im not sure, Eleanor, Emma says quietly. Maybe I nudged it accidentally while washing the dishes.
Eleanor tightens her lips, a flash of triumph crossing her eyes.
Of course! Always the same excuse. Youve lived in my house for twenty years and you still show no respect. Do you even know what this tea set meant to me?
I could glue it back together, Emma offers. Itll be almost invisible.
Dont touch it! Youll only make it worse.
James, Emmas husband, steps into the kitchen, rubbing his forehead. He looks exhausted another migraine from his night shift. He works as head of security at the city shopping centre, and the constant noise drives his headaches.
Whats happening? he asks, looking at his motherinlaw and wife.
Your dear wife just smashed my tea set, Eleanor says, wrapping the broken cup in a towel. The one your father gave me.
Emma hopes James will defend her or at least downplay the incident, but he only sighs.
Emma, how many times have I asked you to be careful with my things?
But I didnt even Emma starts, then stops. Arguing is pointless.
James grabs a bottle of kefir from the fridge and heads for the living room. Emma is left alone with Eleanor, who dabs at a dramatic tear.
And for what? Eleanor laments. Ive spent my whole life for this family keeping the house running, raising my son. And now this
Emma wipes her hands on the towel, fighting the urge to cry. She knows tears will only please Eleanor. After twenty years under this roof she has learned to bottle her emotions. Here, in Eleanors house, her tears would mean nothing.
Im going to hang the laundry, Emma says, hurrying out to the back garden.
That evening, when her daughter Grace returns from college, Emma sits on the veranda sorting beans. Grace drops her bag on the bench and sits beside her.
Mum, why are you so gloomy?
Everythings fine, just tired, Emma replies, forcing a smile.
Grace is perceptive. At eighteen she already understands the familys tangled dynamics.
Grandma again? she asks bluntly.
Emma stays silent, but thats enough.
Mom, how long will you keep putting up with this? Why do you never stand up for yourself? You saw Lucy playing with the set this morning, didnt you?
Enough, Emma says, glancing around nervously. We dont need to make a fuss. Lucys just a child; she doesnt need your lectures.
And you? Do you want the lectures now? Grace snaps, flicking a long auburn strand from her forehead. Sometimes it feels like youre a stranger in this house, like a servant.
Emma shivers. Grace has voiced what Emma has been feeling for years alienated, not belonging, despite two decades of marriage.
Dont say nonsense, Emma says sharply. Were family. It just happens that we live in Eleanors house. Shes an elderly lady who needs attention and care.
And you dont need any? Grace asks, rising. Im going to change.
When Grace leaves, Emma puts down the beans and looks at her hands, rough and cracked from endless housework. She once worked as a nurse in the local clinic and dreamed of a medical career, but after meeting James, falling in love, and having a baby, her motherinlaw insisted she stay home. Your son has a good job; why would you want to go back to the clinic? Theres plenty to do here, Eleanor had said. James agreed. Then baby Alex arrived, and the idea of returning to work faded.
At dinner that night the house is quiet except for Lucy, Eleanors greatgranddaughter, chattering nonstop with her cousins daughter. Mark and his wife Helen live nearby but often leave Lucy with Eleanor.
Today Helen bought me a new dress, Lucy exclaims, twirling. Its pink with lace! I feel like a princess!
Of course, darling, Eleanor coos. Youre the prettiest princess here.
Grandma, why does Aunt Emma never wear pretty dresses? She always looks the same, Lucy asks, eyes wide.
Emma freezes, a lump forming in her throat.
Lucy, thats not proper to say, Eleanor scolds, though her tone is more indulgent than angry.
Its just that Aunt Emma has other worries, Eleanor adds. She doesnt have time for fancy clothes.
Mom, let me take you shopping tomorrow after my classes, Grace suddenly offers. Ive got a scholarship, we can get you a new dress.
Emma shakes her head. I dont need new clothes.
Spend it on textbooks, James mutters. Exams are coming, not dresses.
Grace shoots him an angry look. I have all my books. Why does Mum never buy anything for herself? She always feels sorry for everything.
Dont start, love, Emma says, trying to calm the table. Lets just eat.
No, I want to know! Grace pushes her plate away. Why does Grandma have a new TV, you have a new phone, Lucy has a mountain of toys, and Mum doesnt even have a decent dress?
Watch your language, James snaps. Are you speaking to your father like that?
And how do you speak to your mother? Grace retorts. She lives here like a servant!
Jamess face reddens. Apologise to Eleanor at once! This is her house, and she lets us stay.
Thats enough! Emma stands, her voice trembling. Grace, go to your room, please.
But Mum
Go, Emma repeats firmly.
When Grace retreats, Eleanor shakes her head. Shes getting spoiled. No respect for elders.
Emma says nothing, mechanically clearing the table while a heavy ache builds inside her. Twenty years in this house and she still feels like Cinderella who never became a princess.
That night, lying beside Jamess steady snore, Emma drifts back to the days when she first fell for him tall, disciplined, always bringing flowers and protecting her from bullies. She had lived with her parents in a nearby village, a modest girl from a teaching family.
Her wedding was held in Eleanors sitting room. Jamess father, Peter Whitaker, was still alive and welcomed Emma warmly. Ive always wanted a daughter, he had said, and now I have one.
In the early years, while Peter was alive, Emma felt happy in the house. He defended her from Eleanors criticisms, often saying, Emmas a gem, you wont find a better wife for James.
After Peters death everything changes. Eleanors criticisms become constant, her hints that Emma isnt good enough for her son grow louder. At first James shields his wife, but eventually he tires of the fights and withdraws.
Emma turns on her side, staring into the darkness. Maybe Grace is right maybe she truly is a stranger in this family. But where could she go? She has no job, no savings. Her parents are gone, and the small cottage they left her with was sold at Jamess urging to fund renovations on Eleanors house.
In the morning Emma wakes with a resolve. Today she will talk to James alone, without Eleanor, and try again to explain how hard this is for her.
During breakfast Eleanor drops a new piece of news.
Helen called. Theres an emergency at work, they need Lucy for a week. Ive agreed to look after her. Emma, could you set up a bed for her in my room?
